


Drive-In

by thesunmaid



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal, Car Sex, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, horny teenage boys will be horny teenage boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunmaid/pseuds/thesunmaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you even plan on watching the movie at all?”</p><p>“Sort of, kind of.”</p><p> </p><p>In which John and Dave spend Halloween dressed up as greasers and have car sex at a drive-in</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive-In

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off the idea i got while watching grease that it would be cute to go to our local drive-in dressed as 50s chicks. but why not johndave it right? because i fucking johndave everything

Halloween has always been one of your favorite holidays. Tied with Christmas, because who could choose between the two? With Christmas you had snow and presents and colorful lights on Christmas trees with soft glowing candles in the windows. But on Halloween you had autumn and dead leafs and apple cider and candy and costumes and scary movies and creepy music. You just really love Halloween.

This year however, you’re spending it quite differently.

Dave convinced you, after watching Grease and its shitty sequel, to be greasers for Halloween and go to a drive-in for the complete 1950s experience. The idea seemed interesting, but the fact that he seemed so excited about it was what made you agree in the end.

You didn’t need to do too much shopping for the occasion. Just a jean jacket because while you were a skinny teenager, your shoulders were still too broad to fit into one of Dave’s. Why he even had jean jackets you weren’t sure, because didn’t they fall out of style a while ago? You just chalked it up to the fact that your boyfriend was a severe pack rat.

Halloween night found you in your room preparing for your dumb date with Dave. You had a plain white tee on covered by a black leather jacket. You refused to buy a jean one, and besides you would be wearing too much jean if you did so. The jeans you’re wearing currently are rolled up slightly above your ankles, and your old pair of ratty black converse are tied snugly around your feet. As of this moment you are attempting to slick back your hair with excessive amounts of hair gel, but a few strands refuse to remain pressed down and continue to flip up at odd angles. You huff and pout, this dumb tutorial you’re reading on your phone not helping in the slightest. Dave should be here soon anyway, so instead of fussing over it you put your phone into your back pocket(money for the evening stashed snugly into the back of the case), and head down into the living room.

Your dad is watching Halloween movies on the television as he eats dinner. Lots of Tim Burton, you realize. The large cauldron filled to the brim with assorted candy sits on the coffee table in front of him, ready to hand out to young kids who will be coming by shortly. “Are you sure you’re not hungry, John?” he asks from the couch, turning to you over his shoulder, smoking pipe in hand. “There is still plenty of turkey left for both David and yourself.”

“That’s okay, dad. I think Dave would rather eat at the drive-in, anyway. He’s really hyped on this whole thing it’s hilarious.”

“Well, have a good night. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Yeah, I think we’re just seeing the movie. I have my phone,” you tell him before closing the front door behind yourself.

You stand out on the front steps and breathe in the crisp air deeply, your eyes closing. You exhale the breath slowly as you look around and observe what you can see of your neighborhood. The sound of children’s laughter floods your ears as you see little silhouettes run from doorstep to doorstep. Tired yet happy parents stand in small groups by the street as their kids run up to familiar homes. Warm, orange lights flood onto the street from inside modestly decorated houses, and you can hear creepy Halloween playlists emanating from down the street. A cool breeze rustles your clothes as you hop down the front steps and you smile, Dave’s beat up Chevy pulling up to the curb as you reach the street.

“’Sup, good lookin’?” are his first words and you shove at him as you situate yourself into the passenger seat. He’s playing his dumb mixes from his iPhone and the heavy beat thumps at the speakers.

“Let’s just go already, the movie starts in forty-five minutes and if we don’t leave now we won’t get a good spot.”

This gets him moving, and after putting his hands up in mock surrender, he pulls the car back onto the street, being careful to watch out for oblivious, young children.

It takes a good half hour to get to the lot, and as Dave pulls up to buy tickets you are vibrating in your seat. “What’s got you so worked up there, Johnny?” He asks, and you suppose the nickname is an added bonus to the whole greaser theme of the evening.

You are just excited. This is your first time going to a drive in and you are already loving the experience. Dave laughs at this and boops your nose as he says, “I’m gonna pop your drive-in cherry.” You can’t help but blush at that statement, finding a double-entendre in his words.

After you find a spot, albeit a little far from the screen for your liking, Dave hops out to get food for the both of you. You stay behind to watch the car(and his ass in those tight black jeans), and you continue to fumble in your seat as promos play across the large screen. Other cars are parked around you, mostly couples save the few families who have come to see a movie after a night of trick-or-treating. You fumble with your phone for a few moments before Dave texts you, saying that the line is long and he might take a bit. You tell him it’s fine but just to remember to buy candy for the movie as well. He tells you duh.

When he finally manages to return, it’s with two burgers(one cheese, one cheese and bacon) with their side of fries, extra fries, lots of candy, and a large milkshake with two bendy straws sticking out the top. You eye the cup, then him, and all he does is smile cheekily at you. You just laugh exasperatedly at him. He doesn’t reply though, and instead fixes his pristine leather jacket(that he bought especially for the occasion) over his red tee as he sits back down in the passenger seat.

By the time you both have finished your meals and are happily chewing on french-fry/milkshake combos, the movie is about five minutes in. You, being too focused on the ParaNorman rerun, do not notice how Dave’s hand seems to creep closer and closer to you every time he goes for another fry. It’s not until his thumb is massaging at your knee do you notice his antics, and shoot him a glare that says, “I’m trying to watch this movie, asshole.”

But no, he keeps his palm on your knee and returns to watching the movie, smirking around a salty fry. You ignore his hand though, and go to open some candy instead, choosing the Nerds rope and eating it as languidly as possible. He retaliates however, by pinching his fingers around the space just above your knee, and you can’t help the loud laughs that escape through your mouth as he continues to tickle you.

Geez, you both are shitty greasers.

You can’t kick at him easily so instead you throw fries at his face. He stops immediately when they fall onto the leather of his jacket, grease leaving smudges down the front. He frowns at the mess and attempts to clean himself with a few of the spare napkins. You continue to watch the movie in peace.

The peace is short-lived however, when his hand returns, back on your leg and higher than ever. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as he continues massaging you again, halfway up the inside of your upper thigh. Focus on the movie, John. Focus on the little claymated characters running from claymated zombies on screen. You pick up some more candy, and the sour from the Sour Patch Kids keeps you focused on things other than your boyfriend’s hand devilishly creeping higher up your thigh.

Dave seems to be enjoying himself, though, and he bites at his lip as he smirks, still going tantalizingly slow up your leg until his deft fingers are just mere inches from your crotch. They stay there for quite some time, just idly stroking, and it doesn’t take much longer than that for you to get worked up, and you’re shifting in your seat uncomfortably as Dave just continues to smirk.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” you breathe out through gritted teeth, hand gripping against the door for some leverage.

He snickers softly, eyes trained on the screen. “What the hell, John? I’m just trying to enjoy this movie. Why are you so worked up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that your hand is getting all up close and personal with my clothed dick could be a contributing factor.”

“Should I stop?”

The smirk on his face is false; a façade. You know he is genuinely asking you if it’s alright for him to continue. You are at a 50/50 as of this moment. On one hand you can continue with the drive-in experience and eat candy with your boyfriend as you continue to watch the movie playing on screen. Or, you can forego the movie and instead have cramped car sex with the dorky yet attractive blond in the seat next to you.

You whine softly in the back of your throat and thrust shallowly against Dave’s hand, too embarrassed to outwardly tell him to continue. The smirk on Dave’s face turns into a genuine smile(albeit small and predatory) as he takes the lead and finally rubs deftly over the protrusion against your hip. “Damn, John,” is all he says as you buck up into his hand again, your face flushed, teeth digging into your bottom lip and fighting to keep your eyes open. It doesn’t help that Dave has gotten quite skilled at these sexual feats. The first few times you two had done anything sexual, Dave was all awkward fumbling and extended metaphors. But now he was collected and controlled. The fact that he probably Googled a whole bunch of shit would have made you laugh heartily if you weren’t already ascending to cloud nine.

It’s not like you were any more skilled than he was, anyway. But fuck, who knew what a little searching and self experimentation could do.

A second thought of Dave trying these new things out on himself made you moan, and the sound only egged Dave on further. With no hesitation he went for your fly, unbuttoning and unzippering it in two quick, fluid motions. The second your jeans are open you sigh, slumping back against the leather seat. You open your eyes to a commotion in the drivers seat, and then Dave is straddling you, legs on either side of your own as his right palm strokes you roughly through your boxers and his left comes up to grab your cheek before crushing his lips to yours.

In seconds you’re opening up for him, and he gladly accepts your proposal, his tongue languidly stroking over your abused bottom lip as he presses close against you. You moan and nip at him, eliciting a wonderful gasp from his throat.

At this tight proximity, him pressing you bodily up against the back of the seat, there is not much room for his hand down your pants. Instead he improvises, and brings both hands up to run through and pull at your hair while he grinds his crotch down against your own. His breathy moan is wonderful, and you grip at his hips and grind up into him while you pull him down against you, and he gasps, breath hot against your neck as he goes to kiss down your throat and suck at the juncture where it meets your shoulders.

Yeah, no. You are glad you made this decision.

Dave starts to make whimpering noises as he ruts against you quickly, and you would think he was already nearing completion if you didn’t know any better. But you like to fuck with him anyway. Or fuck him. Or vice versa. You really don’t care.

“Wow Dave, you almost done already? That’s gonna take some cool kid points off your cred.”

He groans against your neck, breath heavy. “Nnn, sh-shut up,” is all he manages to say before his hand is slipping down to his fly and he’s opening up his own jeans as well. He sighs at the released pressure and kisses back up your neck, sucks at your pulse, then butterfly kisses his way back to your lips where your mouth is already open and waiting.

The heavy make-out only lasts for so much longer until both of your thrusts alone are not enough. “Fuck this,” Dave mumbles, airless, as he climbs into the backseat. “John, c’mon, hurry your ass up I don’t have all night, here.”

You follow after him without a second thought, and you feel the truck shake slightly as you clumsily slide into the back seat. You nearly topple on top of Dave once you climb over the upholstery, but he’s already grabbing at your jacket and pulling you into his lap, kissing you hungrily. You return the kiss with just as much fervor, your own hands now getting lost in the expanse of his jelled, blond hair.

Your kiss can only last so long until you’re letting up for air and panting hard as you cling to Dave. You are positive your activities are shaking the car, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Hopefully it isn’t too much of a distraction from the other movie goers, but knowing Dave(with his exhibitionism kink) he doesn’t care in the slightest.

Dave’s hands move from your hips to your ass roughly, and then squeezes once his palms are perfectly cupped around your clothed rump. You moan into him, your cheek pressed against his own and you shudder, fingers tightening against his fine hairs. “Haa, nn, Dave please.”

“John, fuckin’ Christ,” he nearly _growls_ against your neck before biting down and you cry out, hips thrusting down hard against his own as he sucks your skin and squeezes at your ass once again.

In a flash you’re on your back, and Dave is quickly working to shimmy off your jeans. He pulls off your shoes and socks, throwing them to the floor as you kick the denim off the rest of the way. You watch him as he slides his own jeans down his hips, the tight fabric putting up great resistance. You admit that skinny jeans made your boyfriend’s ass look spectacular, but they were a bitch to remove in a hurry, and fuck if you weren’t in a hurry. So you whine and grab him by his belt loops, pulling him over you, your bare thighs chaffing against the jean covering Dave’s own as you rest your legs over his hips.

He’s leaning over you in an instant, gripping at your hair and tugging harshly. You gasp and he kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding over yours, flicking at it, making you shudder as he presses his chest against yours and grinds your hips together again.

Your dick is straining painfully in your boxers and you can feel yourself leaking onto the cotton as you continue to rut up against Dave’s own hardened cock. His groans and pants spur you further, and you move to grab at his ass this time, pulling him flush against you and you shiver, gasping. Dave isn’t much better off, and he pushes back against your fingers as you kneed at his soft, pale, freckle-dusted skin.

“Mnn,” he moans into your shoulder, rocking back and forth against your hands and your crotch, you both loving the friction it creates. But your movements are hurried, frantic, desperately searching for climax like the teenaged boys you both are.

Dave pulls back from you and you moan, friction lost as he sits back on his haunches. He massages at your inner thighs and you writhe beneath him. “Shades,” you tell him, and in moments they’re folded neatly and resting on top of your discarded clothes on the floor. Now you can see his gaze without and hindrance. The lust there makes your dick throb, his pupils blown so wide you could only just make out the startling red of his iris’. Something you’ve always loved and every time you saw them was like the first. But your breath doesn’t have the time to get caught in your throat, because you have no air left, and then he’s pulling your boxers down your thighs and off your ankles, and you moan happily as your dick finally stands at full mast, hot and leaking.

You shrug off your jacket as he goes to remove his own, the temperature in the car much warmer than it was at the beginning of the evening, and you’re sure the windows will be steamy by the time you both are done. He stares at your dick as he shimmies out of his boxers, and you know he would very much like to suck you off, it being such a regular occurrence in your bedrooms. But unfortunately the car is too cramped for him to slide back far enough, and you don’t have the energy to pull yourself off the leather of the back seat you are currently sprawled against.

Dave just bites his abused lips instead, and you can compare them to Snow White as the bright red contrasts against his milky skin in a way that makes you want to pull him down and kiss him again. But pants are off, and one of you is about to get fucked three ways from Sunday. You think it’s going to be you. Dave seems to be very in control tonight and you’re loving every minute of it.

He reaches down between the seats and grabs a condom and a small tube of lube. “Did you even plan on watching the movie at all?”

“Sort of, kind of.”

 You groan, head falling back against the leather of the seat. You should have known, but you can’t help but also groan at the lube and his intentions with it, at the sight of _him;_ flushed, panting, cock hard and leaking just as much as yours. In seconds he’s prodding against your entrance, and you flinch at the coldness of the liquid before relaxing enough for him to slide a finger into you.

You shift uncomfortably around the digit and he waits for your okay before sliding in to the knuckle as slowly as he can. The pace is torturous, but by the time he’s scissoring you with a second finger, occasionally brushing against your prostate, you’re writhing and moaning and gasping under him in all the ways you know he likes.

“Fuck, John,” he pants and leans over you again, kissing you until he gets his free hand up your shirt and is playing with one of your nipples. You gasp loudly, back arching into his touch as his other hand continues to stretch you.

“Dave, please I’m not g-going to- Ah!” he silences you with a rough kiss as he massages against your prostate once more, and you manage to thrust down onto his fingers once, twice- and then he’s pulling out of you and you whine, bucking frantically into nothing.

“Shh, baby,” he tells you, and his voice is low and it does wonderful things to your dick. Such wonderful things.

But before you can mourn the loss of his fingers for too long he’s ripping open the condom with his teeth and rolling it over himself, and he strokes himself with more lube before he’s pressing into you slowly and you’re arching into his touches, gasping. You wrap your legs around him and hook them together as he continues to slowly shift into you. You know he’s being courteous, but right now you are more than ready and this pace is _much_ too slow for either of your liking. So you push against him, your legs holding him in place as you shift down and you’re both moaning loudly. Once his hips are pressed up against your own do you hesitate to let yourself get accustomed to his size, which is much larger than his fingers.

“Okay,” you sigh when you’re ready, and that’s all the reassurance he needs before he’s gripping tightly at your hips and thrusting into you hard, hitting your prostate on the first go. You keen loudly and you are sure the neighboring cars must have heard you but could you give a fuck? No because it felt amazing and he needs to do that again.

And he does. Again and again and again, until both of your thrusts are frantic and needy and you're panting and moaning, and Dave is gripping you tight, fingers digging into your hip and thigh as he finds a new angle to hit you at. It’s glorious and you don’t want it to stop but the build-up in your groin is making you uncoordinated and shaky as he thrusts again and again and again.

He leans over you again but this time pushes your shirt up high enough to expose your chest. And he’s mouthing at your hardened nipples, tongue laving at one and rolling it between his teeth. Your hands grab onto his hair in a vice-grip, holding him down against you as his thrusts become erratic as well. Soon he’s no longer able to focus on your chest and instead has his forehead pressed against your peck as he thrusts in and out of you, gasping and breathing heavily.

“John, I’m-“

“Fucking _touch me!”_ And he does with gusto, grabbing onto your cock and finally giving it the attention it deserves. “Dave! Ah! Fuck- yes! Please, c’mon, harder!” And you’re coming within three strokes, keening loudly and arching into him, movements stilling as he continues to thrust quickly and irregularly into you.

“Fuck! John you’re so great s-so good- ahh! Shit!” And then he’s coming as well, holding you tight as he reaches his peak, his eyes scrunching shut as he spills over the edge. He’s still pumping you as his thrusts slow, riding out both of your orgasms. You twitch under him at the overstimulation and he kisses you. First your cheeks then your nose then your lips where he stays.

Post-orgasm make-outs go on for a while. Just kisses and nips as you still hold onto each other in your hazes. But soon you’re both uncomfortable, with your come drying to both of your shirts and chests and his dick laying flaccid inside you. So you move to separate, stealing kisses here and there as you both clean up and redress.

By the time your clothes are back on you are both back to heatedly kissing again, this time Dave in your lap as you kneed at his ass. It’s nice. The movie is ending now, and you two stay like that until the traffic has mostly cleared. It takes at least a good half hour for most of the cars to clear out, and by that time Dave is already back to touching himself through his clothes and you laugh.

“You bottom. My place.”

**Author's Note:**

> i think im finally getting the hang of this smut writing business what do you guys think


End file.
